Leadplague

An army of reanimated deadites shamble across a barren landscape, wearily making their way towards an ancient citadel, belching forth fumes and rivers of mire into deep cracks of the scorched barren earth, leeched of all life. A dead planet. A distant rhythmical thumping of engines and stench of gasoline belie the edifices ancient industrial purpose. Why do the dead walk here? Are they come to tear down the machinery of some mad devourer of worlds with their skeletal hands, to break their bony fingers against grinding gears and carven stone - the last survivors beyond lifelessness left to challenge the evil overlords. Perhaps. It may be these skeletal warriors seek simple rest, hoping the infernal citadel-machine will grind their bones and sever their tortured binding of mind and body, to grant them an eternal oblivion, a final end to their toiling path and blasphemous unlife. Perhaps. It may be that some alien master awaits within to receive the corpse-warriors. Some justified and ancient being from before the dawn of Man, who summons the bodies of the slain to his insane factory to transform their decaying bodies, and with eldritch wizardry bind their world weary souls to ever stranger forms and send them out, into the blackness between the stars upon sentient voidcraft steered by alien minds, to follow some unutterable destiny. To seek again the victory of annihilation and wage their eternal war anew on some alien horizon. Perhaps. It may be the truth is stranger yet.

Rightly famed throughout the western spiral for his necromantic and thaumaturgical acts upon multifarious weird and fantastical toy soliders, the Oldhammerist known as JB Asslessman, Master of the Leadplague,  is now sporting a new blog banner, as drawn by the illuminator-minions of the  Zhu Art Corporation of Zelda XII.

Go forth and see what the Assless One hath wrought.